


The Truth In My Lie

by Heather C (riteinthefeels)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Five Stages of Grief, Going for accuracy, M/M, POV Multiple, Sibling Incest, The Dark World Spoilers, Thor Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riteinthefeels/pseuds/Heather%20C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another <a href="http://lokis-gspot.tumblr.com/post/76335134292/i-watched-stoker-a-while-ago-and-its-been-in-my">prompt</a> found on tumblr. I did a lot of research to try to get into the heads of adult siblings who enter into an incestuous relationship. It's really only starting, and I'm also trying to give both characters different voices, which is new for me and rather difficult. Bear with me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: No Tricks

**Author's Note:**

> I have finally got everything rearranged the way I want it, and a way that I hope makes more sense. For those who have been following along, the new material is in Ch. 3, xvi. Loki until the end of that chapter.

i. Thor

I went to the dungeon myself that day. I thought Loki should hear it from kin. We aren’t blood-related, but after a thousand years, he is my brother. The woman who raised us both had been slain. That is not a message to be carried by a guard.

Father had still not repaired the dungeon. It stood empty, save for one guard at the top of the stair and my brother in his cell. Chunks of the walls were missing, and piles of rubble lay at intervals along the deserted halls. Someone had started sweeping them up, then lost interest and left them.

The bodies had been cleared out. Father was too overcome by grief to give much thought to anything. I had given the order myself to have the dead prisoners and guards removed. We sent the prisoners’ corpses from the city to be burned. The guards were taken to Valhalla to recover.

Blood stained the floor and walls. When I reached Loki’s cell, he was reading in the corner. I turned off the force field generator and approached him. He did not look at me. As I told him of Frigga’s passing, his eyes strayed to the floor in front of him. He slowly closed his book and rested it on his lap. Long moments passed while I waited for him to speak, but he only stared blankly.

I turned to leave. I had not taken two steps before the generator switched back on. Turning back to Loki, I noticed him trembling. His eyes brimmed with tears and he smiled at me. It reminded me of when we were boys and he would get hurt in the training ring. Father had always told him real men don’t show pain.

I stepped closer to him, wanting to comfort him as I have in the past. I reached for his shoulder, but he raised a hand to block me.

“Don’t,” he said.

That was all.

Just, “Don’t.”

ii. Loki

The imbecile knelt before me, and in my distress, I did not notice that I finally had the mighty Thor where I had ever longed for him to be. His hammer scraped upon the intricate tile work of my quarters and his head bowed.

I had stopped him from touching me for I feared that had his caress graced my shoulder, the façade would have dropped. He could already see plainly that the news affected me, but I’d not give him the satisfaction of breaking down before him.

Gazing down with the lie of a half-smile plastered upon my lips, I focused on breathing and recalled the last time I had seen our mother. Just days before I had rejected her love, and in that moment, I felt a cretin to surpass even my brute of a brother. I shut my eyes so tight that it hurt, and forced myself to drink in the pain like the bitterest of wines, the only appropriate refreshment to quench the thirst of my battered soul.

I wished to gouge my eyes from my skull and deprive myself the sight of those I had left to hurt, as the dwarves once deprived my tongue from speech by stitching my lips together. At length, the muscles of my face slackened and I regained unfocused vision. Thor stared at me, traces of his golden smile lost and longing emanating from widened pupils.

Realizing the wetness of my cheeks had flowed from my own treacherous eyes, I stood, letting the book thump onto the floor, and strode to the field separating us from the rest of Asgard. I had turned the generator on when Thor threatened to abandon me, but the magic-dampening properties of the field itself prevented me from turning it back off.

I heard him shift to his feet and stomp behind me. This time, when his battle-worn hands, so confident ‘round the handle of Mjolnir but so lost in more delicate matters, reached for the comfort of my presence, I allowed it. I studied the floor and a great shuddering breath racked my body. Thor’s hand closed around my upper arm, tightly but not painfully.

iii. Thor

I grabbed both of Loki’s arms. I tried to remember the last time I had hugged my brother. Surely I did before the day of my coronation. Everything after that day had happened so wrongly.

After he had fallen from the Bifrost, I thought of so many things I would do differently. I would have hugged him more. I would have told him how much I loved him and valued his presence in my life. I would have compromised with him more, instead of dragging him to Jotunheim and risking his life. I would have allowed him time to shine.

Those are the things I told myself as I tried to fall asleep after his death. Most of all, I would have been more open with him. Talking is not the Aesir way, but the way of my forefathers is the way that pushed Loki aside.

I wanted so badly to be the big brother he deserved, whether we shared blood or not, but since Heimdall found him on Midgard, all I could do was reject him. How can I tell someone who means to kill thousands of the people I am sworn to protect that what he does is fine? What choice did I have?

“I am sorry,” I murmured.

My tongue refused to give voice to everything else I wanted to say. Loki, in that way he has of reading into words, must have known anyway. He leaned back against me and I straightened. It was not like him to forgive so easily, but I suppose even Loki must get tired of constant opposition.

iv. Loki

Sorry, Thor? Of course you’re sorry. You’re always sorry.

But if Thor would not comfort me, who would? Not Odin. Nor any of those I once considered friends. No longer Frigga. I chastised myself for again wanting to chase away the one person who took pity on my wretched being, swallowing the pride and ferocity like a bit of meat not chewed enough that gets lodged partway down the throat.

I reclined my shoulder blades against his chest in apology, feeling tension sweep through his body as he fought to relax. I could not blame him. We had grown so distant in the past decade or so that he probably did not know what to expect from me.

No tricks this time, brother.

v. Thor

He turned in my arms, sliding his hands around my waist. His head lay against my shoulder and I heard him sniff occasionally. Realizing that my hands hovered in the air, I clasped them behind his back. It had been too long since we had shared a moment like this.

I was grateful the guard had not come looking for me.

I glanced down into his eyes. Tears streamed freely from them and he still smiled that incredulous grin. I rubbed his back lightly, mimicking what I had seen our mother do countless times.

His fingers drifted across my back almost sensually. My breath caught in my throat, and when I looked into his eyes again, they looked black beneath heavy lids.

Confusion overtook me. Loki was my brother. We were raised together, but the fragile bond we had forged was something more than brotherly. I felt warm all over, even though the dungeons were kept cold.

My skin began to crawl, not unpleasantly, and I broke out in a cold sweat. It was wrong. I knew it was wrong because I had always been told how disgusting Freya and Frey were for laying with each other. The wrongness could not stop the giddiness I felt.

Terror rose inside me, and on the heels of that, excitement. Maybe this is why Loki does the things he does. Maybe he likes the possibility of being caught. It was exhilarating.

Close as we were, I could not help but notice the bulge growing where he stood against my leg. I began to panic and looked at him, my mouth open with no words to fill it.

Then he kissed me. It was just a peck on the cheek, but it lingered. My head rang with the mantra of _Wrong! Bad! Unclean!_ My heart swelled in the beauty of the moment, of sharing it with my brother.

Slowly I closed my mouth and leaned toward him.

vi. Loki

What possessed me to kiss Thor? What possesses anyone to do anything? Raw desire. Necessity. The need to have someone nurture me after Frigga was gone. Perhaps it was in the absence of her nurturing that insanity first took root, seeping into the empty spaces of my mind and filling it like pitch. Perhaps I did not wish to experience that helplessness again.

What possessed Thor to kiss me? That is something only Thor knows. I withdrew when I realized I had dallied just too long on his cheek. Despite my best efforts, a blush rose across my face and I avoided his gaze, expecting him to cast me away.

Imagine my surprise when he leaned in and kissed my lips, the roughness of his stubble scratching against my chin. He kissed chastely, though he did loiter at least as long as I had on his cheek. I felt a swelling between us to match my own, sending tingles along my spine and branching across my peripheral nerves.

I said no tricks, brother.


	2. Part Two: Vengeance

vii. Loki

I did not see Thor for a few days after that. He had fled from my cell like a pre-teen girl caught peeping upon her older sister’s bedroom antics, eyes wide and cheeks red. I know not what spooked him.

When he again came to me, it was to beg succor in avenging our late mother. The news of her death and the absence of friendly touch had wrought a fury upon me. My cell lay in shambles—chairs and table overturned, mirror broken, blood blotted on the mosaic floor. I hid behind illusion when he approached, not willing to admit how I needed his affections.

But he saw. And in the moment that he saw, I glimpsed the slightest hope that he might take care of me, might be for me what Frigga had been through the centuries. So I let him in.

viii. Thor

I stayed away from the dungeon, but memory followed me from Loki’s cell. All day, the way he stared from my shoulder stayed in my mind. In the mornings I would wake from vivid dreams of him.

Was it not just brotherly affection? Did I not feel obligated to take care of him?

When I did go back to the dungeon, it was to ask his help in getting out of Asgard after father had closed the Bifrost. He was angry and accused me of visiting him only to mock. Beneath the anger, there was hurt and fear in his eyes.

“Loki, enough!” I implored. “No more illusions.”

The apparition fell away. My brother sat on the floor amidst broken furniture, blood drying to his bare foot. For all his past crimes, I could see only the boy with whom I grew up. He had gotten himself into trouble again, and I had to help him out of it. That is the way it had always been. He did the same for me before he fell.

Loki agreed to sneak Jane and I from the realm. He requested to be allowed to bathe and dress appropriately, so I got his handcuffs from the guard.

It should have been such a simple gesture. Just snap the cuffs on and go. But when he held out his hands, my finger brushed his wrist, and a tingle shot up my arm. I held my breath and saw him staring at me, as if he wanted nothing more than to be bound.

The image of him naked on my bed, arms cuffed to the post, would not leave my head no matter how much I tried to think of something else. One corner of his mouth crept up. It made me wonder if he had learned to read minds.

I pushed him toward the stair and walked behind. My traitorous eyes kept drifting down from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist and tight butt. I wanted to know what it felt like to rub my hands all over that lean body. I wondered how many others already knew what I should not. The fierce grip of jealousy overtook me, and I reached for Loki’s elbow, intending to guide him up the stairs.

He stopped. While he stared at his bare feet, I heard his breath quicken. My arms ached to throw him against the wall and tear off his clothes. Still, my mind would not relent. I began walking and pulled at his arm, forcing him to keep up with me.

We reached his quarters and I escorted him to his private bath. Turning so I could remove the cuffs, he raised his eyebrows as if asking me to leave.

“Loki, you are still a prisoner. I cannot leave you alone,” I answered.

“’Twas worth a shot,” he grinned.

I stood in the doorway, fingers nervously circling Mjolnir’s handle. As Loki peeled off his clothes, the bath magically filled with warm water.

“Loki…” I warned. “Do that again and the cuffs go back on.”

ix. Loki

I know not how the buffoon expected me to bathe with no water. Let the rest of the palace rely on servants to bring water for their baths; I had no need of such dependence.

Sneering as I stepped into the basin, I could feel his eyes upon me. No doubt he wondered from where the elaborate tapestry of my hide had come. The excursions we planned as princes never resulted in such lasting souvenirs. Indeed, seen as the weak one of our band of companions, I often wove my spells from a place of protection amidst the rest.

Older scars, some self-inflicted in attempt to replicate the natural marks of my heritage, trailed in white lines over puckered skin. Most recently, my face and hands bore pink tracks from the altercation with the giant green Midgardian. The rainbow blooms on my ribs and shoulders had long since healed.

I pulled my injured foot from the stinging wash and cradled it, squinting as I picked pieces of serrated glass from their embedded shelter.

“May I heal my wound, or would you deny me that as well?” I spat, irritated that the great brute could lean in the stone arch, unmoving and unfeeling, with the same body that lesser men had found impossible to resist splayed before him.

But I suppose that was what so attracted me to him: that he was not a lesser man. He was my brother, much as I sought to deny it as of late; he held the burden of impending kingship, he wielded lightning as easily as other men rise in the morning, and he made it his personal duty to watch over those he cared about. That he might again care for me, and in a deeper way than he had previously, though it be unclean in the eyes of our peers, gave me hope for the wretched being inside this pallid pretense.

He nodded, and I pressed my palm to the sole of my foot, closing my eyes as the familiar burning passed from paw to paw and knitted the puncture to itself. On inspection, only a pink scar in the shape of a jagged F remained.

I released my foot and grappled with the soap, smoothing suds along each crease and rise of my body in a way I’d not had the privilege to enjoy in years. I even lathered my hair slowly, delicately, ensuring each strand soaked in the rich froth, and then tipped back to shake the cleanser out of black silken locks.

Kicking the plug from the pipe, I settled back and rubbed a mass of foam between my palms. When the water had drained to my thighs, I maneuvered the plug back in place. Soapy hands pulled at my growing shaft as I watched Thor intently. He shifted and glanced away, plucking at his clothing. He had insisted on watching me bathe, after all.

I began calling his name, tauntingly at first, daring him to cross those forbidden lines.

x. Thor

This was bold even for him. That he knew the effect he had on me, I have no doubt. That he would take advantage of it so openly—Loki was more prone to covert tricks. I found this new display to be unsettling.

The longer he stroked himself, the more feverish and less playful his voice became. My name uttered through those lips turned from a teasing melody into the sweetest of pleas. His eyes opened and settled upon me as he rubbed furiously, the need in them compelling me to step forward before I realized what my foot had done. My own cock threatened to burst from my clothing when he came, choking out my name in a low whine.

xi. Thor

Once on Svartalfheim, we stopped for a night aboard the skiff. We had yet to find Malekith, though Loki kept promising the dark elf ship to be just over the next rise. Finally, weariness overtook us all, and we decided to sleep and be ready for the inevitable skirmish.

Jane, with the Aether absorbing her energy, fell quickly to sleep. Loki was unusually silent, staring out into space with fear and hope both in his eyes. With him bound to the skiff’s wheel and so fascinated by the Aether in Jane’s body, I felt it safe to leave Mjolnir weighted upon the ship and take a walk.

The air of Svartalfheim, still weighted with ash from the last great battle, smelled acrid and felt heavy in my chest. I walked slowly toward the rise we had just crested, thinking about my brother bathing that morning. The way he took such care in peeling away his clothing, stepping into the bath, lathering on the soap, and even in the slow, deliberate way he caressed himself had become much more interesting of late.

As I reached the top of the rise, I scanned the other side and found the old husk of a tree. I wandered down toward it, the tightening of my pants becoming increasingly more uncomfortable. The way Loki had looked after his bath—seductively peaceful and beautifully dangerous, like a great sleeping serpent—beckoned me.

Norns only knew how I kept from covering his body in kisses after that. It must have been the fear of being found. Shame over what father would think of us held me in check like a war hound straining at the collar. But there on Svartalfheim, no one need know the actions I took while alone or the thoughts that spurred them.

I tested my weight on the tree trunk, and it creaked and groaned but stayed upright. Palming the swelling from outside the cloth, I sighed and closed my eyes, imagining my brother leaning against me, the heat from his body warding off the cold elven air. I craned my neck for kisses that would not come and freed my cock from its confine, wrapping a hand around the shaft and stroking.

There was no shame in fantasizing what would never come to light, I told myself. Guilt would come later, and I would deal with it later, but for the moment I was caught in the illusion of sharing with my brother the one thing we never had.

I longed for Loki’s manicured nails to drag down my chest, wondering if he would be as impressed with my muscle tone as the maidens I bedded usually were. Rumor had long gone around of Loki’s sexual exploits, and I was curious if he really was that skilled with a man. My nerves were on fire, aching to learn all of the things I did not know about him. I speculated on whether he would like to take or be taken, if he would want it rough or gentle, and a thousand other things I would do with him were he not my brother.

I pictured his lips wrapped around my cock, the glint of a smile in his eye as he gazed up at me. This pushed me over the edge, and I called his name as I came, grateful for the hill between us to buffer the sound.

xii. Loki

I heard you, Thor. O yes, dearest brother, I heard you.


	3. Part Three: Near Death Experience

xiii. Loki

No, I had no plans to die that day. We had agreed that Thor would take care of the mutated elven creature while I dispatched the remaining dark elves and incapacitated Malekith. We would escort the svartalf leader back to Asgard for sentencing—rather, Thor would escort him. I planned to be long gone by then, perhaps in Nidavellir, or maybe I would visit my feckless brethren in Jotunheim.

For all his battle prowess, Thor remained as arrogant as always. He had simply become better at hiding his pride, as the Allfather had shown his displeasure in such displays by banishing my brother to Midgard. Thor underestimated Kurse, and would have paid with his life, had I not intervened. I knew the bayonet would not kill the monster, but at least distraction held it long enough for Thor to regain his footing.

Do you know how it feels to die? Would that I did not, but the path of my birthright is far from sheltered. As the blade pushed in, the inside of my chest seared with pain. Kurse threw me to the ground, and a crushing weight bore down upon me. Moving and breathing became intolerable, more so when Thor fell to his knees and scooped my rigid form from the rock.

I cannot fault my brother for his rough handling. I was dying, after all the plans put into action and not yet acted upon, and extreme situations make loved ones reckless. Soon after Thor cradled me in his arms, a great coldness overtook me, and the pain numbed to nothing. I vaguely remember apologizing to Thor in my distress. We could have been so much more had I only followed the plan.

I awoke some time later, having dreamt of an icy wave crashing endlessly against my rolling body. I saw nothing, but felt what appeared to be waterlogged flesh rub constantly against mine. I opened my eyes to find that Thor and Jane had gone. Yards from me lay the svartalfar I had slain.

Pushing my torso up coaxed pops and cracks from my ribcage as it finished knitting itself back together. I raised a hand to my chest and found the skin gnarled but intact under the gash in my armor. At length, I found my legs to hold me, and I stumbled over the crest where began the execution of our misfortunate plan. The skiff pitched to one side on the ashen ground. I climbed over the side and nearly collapsed by the wheel, smoothing my hands over it and steering the craft back toward Asgard.

xiv. Loki

Returning to Asgard proved trickier than leaving it. I could not trust my weakened form to steer me safely through the rainbow-encrusted caverns, so I explored the rifts caused by the impending convergence for a portal to the place where I was raised. Ensorcelled by truesight, glimpses shone through for me from the other side. Many portals led to the lower realms, and a few revealed the viridian plains of Vanaheim, but Asgard’s golden spires eluded me.

The straw huts and lush forests of the Vanir flashed by me again, and I veered my skiff through the shimmering gate. I abandoned the craft, limping through the waist-high field toward a stream glimpsed from the air. I shed my jacket, vest, and shirt as I walked, closing my eyes to revel in the feel of the warm breeze against my bare skin. Happening upon a log, I sat and pulled off my boots and gaiters, digging my toes through the earth before sliding my pants off as well.

I grabbed the dagger from its sheath at the waist of my pants and pulled my hair back with one hand, gathering wayward locks with weaving fingers until I held all of it. One quick swipe with the blade, and the tresses fell off into my fist. I uncurled my fingers and let the breeze pluck away that part of me and spread it among the budding wildflowers. Then I stumbled to my feet, and slid down the bank of the stream to splash into the lukewarm water.

The blood congealed into a brick red inkblot on my chest wiped away easily after soaking, and I smoothed the flaky mixture through my hair, changing its color from lush black to strawberry blonde. Shortly, a group of youths ran laughing into view, stripping off their peasants’ clothes as they neared the shore. They dove in one by one and swam out to a jagged rock jutting from the smooth surface, daring each other to perform a series of acrobatics from its slimy face.

Ducking under and swimming to the bank, I hoisted myself up the muddy ledge and skulked through the tall grass until I had gathered a shirt and pants. The latter, cerulean and a bit tight through the crotch, stopped mid-calf on me. I hunted among the trappings until I had located a scarf to bind the over-sized sepia shirt at the waist and a hunk of bread, then set off in the direction from which my oblivious benefactors had come.

I followed a dusty road for half a day, sun blazing against my back and leaching all moisture from the dirt. A town lay not far from the stream, but I had forgone it as a precaution, anxious that a relative may recognize the clothing I had borrowed. I progressed slowly, the occasional gravel and fallen branch jabbed into my instep forcing me to train my eyes to the ground.

The sun had neared its nocturnal rest behind Vanaheim’s western mountains before I heard the clang of the peddler’s wares behind me. His wagon creaked out the lead line of the harmony, and the lone mule panted hard in the heat. On approaching me, the long-eared beast brayed loudly, and the peddler woke fitfully from his afternoon doze.

“Good sir,” I began. “Might I ride with you just to the next town? I am expected to meet a colleague there by night fall, and fear I shall not make it.”

He yawned, then coughed and climbed down from his bench with peculiar jerky movements, as if perpetual motion were his life’s aspiration. He continued to shuffle and jitter as he stood before me, squinting from bushy eyebrows and fat, red cheeks.

“Eh? Ride? Aufi’s not had enough, then.” He patted the mule’s frothy neck.

“Ah, of course, I wouldn’t want to put you or Aufi out. It’s just that I was attacked by marauders who knocked me unconscious, I’m ashamed to say, and stole my boots and horse. Else I’d have gotten there with hours to spare.”

“Oh, marauders.” He shuffled more urgently. “I heard Prince Thor took care of those, but I guess he could have missed a few.”

“You know,” I edged closer to him, speaking softly. “If they come back, I think we could best them together.”

Resting a hand on his shoulder, I granted him a toothless smile. He eyed me warily, then sighed and climbed back onto the bench, waving me over to sit beside him. Miraculously, my pants remained intact as I hoisted myself up to the seat.

Blowing, creaking, and clanging filled the silence between us, soon joined by the sharp chirp of crickets and small frogs. At length, the peddler alit from the wagon to light two lanterns attached to the mule’s back band, then scrambled back up and slapped the reins lightly over the animal’s haunches. I have no doubt the idea of marauders had spooked him, but the way the lights bounced around Aufi’s trot and cast jumping shadows on all sides only served to deepen the mystery of what lurked in the dark.

When the lamps of a hamlet pierced the darkness ahead of us in tiny pinpoints, my companion exhaled in a manner suggesting he had been holding his breath. On the heels of that sigh, I heard the deep breathing of something much larger than a mule, and smelled the rot of week-old flesh. I jumped from the wagon and rolled through waist-high grass beside the road.

As I lay flattened against the dewy ground, something rushed from the opposite side and snapped the mule up in scaly brown jaws. The lanterns crashed to the ground, shattering and extinguishing the light. I heard the peddler’s screams as the creature bit into him as well, and surprised myself by mustering the energy to conjure a sparking ball of light before me.

I saw the antlers first—great, many-pronged things curling in and around themselves. They appeared ornamental at best. The beast shied back, blinking and squinting at the blue-white ball, its thick, forked tongue flicking rapidly from its mouth. Then it lunged, and I spied bits of the mule’s seal brown hide stuck between its teeth. I threw my arms wide and the ball exploded. The bilgesnipe dropped dead, momentum propelling its seared corpse into my chest.

The impact knocked the wind from me, and I lay under that stinking carcass for what felt like hours, sucking in staggered breaths as my head spun. I heard shouting and the thump of running footfalls, then someone slid the animal from my torso and pulled me to my feet.

The villagers carried me, arms slung about shoulders, to their inn and made me comfortable, bringing water and hot soup to the soft bed on which I lay. I ate and drank, but still my head spun, so at length I thought to sleep it off and dismissed my saviors from the room.

xv. Loki

I awoke the following morning and lay still, eyes closed as I tried to recall the events of the preceding day. I could not remember if the breathing in the room belonged to friend or foe, and dared not attract the attention of its owner until the fight with the bilgesnipe finally came back to me.

I yawned, stretching my arms and legs and blinking in the morning sunlight blazing through the room’s one window. The watchman stirred, shifting skinny legs and clearing his throat from behind a book. It was not until he spoke with a soft, feminine voice that I realized my folly in assuming my companion a male.

“How fare thee, m’lord?”

“No maiden, I am no lord. Simply a weary traveler happened upon misfortune, and taken in by your good people,” I coughed, throat dry from sleep.

She lowered her book slowly, keeping her gaze to the floor until, rising, green eyes pierced my own and she stepped toward me. Picking up the jug by my bedside, she poured a glass of water and whispered fiercely as she handed it to me.

“I know you, Loki. Why have you come? What terror would you bring upon the Vanir, as you have deemed to bring upon Jotunheim and Midgard both?”

I studied her face, the high cheekbones and small nose, the flowing black locks falling straight down, as I debated whether to deny her accusations. Then it clicked.

“Sigyn? Is that you? My dear, it’s been decades since I’ve seen you!” I offered my hand. “How fares the ousted princess of Vanaheim?”

“Ousted! Pah, that occurred millennia before my birth. I hardly think of it, and besides, the Allfather has been good to us. Has he not cared for you as well?”

“Cared for—oh, I don’t know that I’d call it that. Perhaps taken care of me, as a babe, but without caring. He relegated that to Frigga. No need to further dirty his hands with the cast off runt of the Jotnar.”

Sigyn’s face screwed up, in distaste or confusion I knew not.

“Oh, didn’t you know, my dear Sigyn? I thought everyone knew by now. I was born of Laufey, sired of… well, of who knows, really. I presume another frost giant, xenophobic as they are, but I suppose anything is possible.”

She wound her fingers through mine and sat gently on the bed. “Loki… Laufeyjarson?”

“I—yes. I suppose so.”

“Oh.”

Her eyes clouded over and squinted, and her brow furrowed as if trying to focus on something far in the distance. At length, the milky jades of her eyes opened round in surprise, then her face went slack.

“Oh. That makes so much more sense now.”

Eyelids falling heavy, she drooped a little and became silent. Moments passed, and alarm rose within me, crashing through my veins like the rage of battle or the lust of intimate touch. Had the Vanir come in and seen me with one of their own dead, they’d never aid my return to Asgard.

“Sigyn?! Are you still with me?” I sat up abruptly and shook her.

“Yes, Loki… I am here. It’s just you’ve been through so much, and it’s so hard to bear, especially hitting me all at once as it is. How could the Allfather expect anything different of you? Oh… Loki, how dreadful.”

She leaned her side against my chest and breathed in deep, draping an arm across my hip. My arms encircled her as I leaned back against the headboard, pulling her with me.

“Darling, I need your help,” I began, her black tresses shimmering as she nodded. “I have to go back to Asgard, at least for a while. I need your people’s help, but they cannot know who I am, especially not your brother. Where is he, by the way?”

She mumbled, her breath warm against my skin, “Hogun left to see about the threat of a great wyrm to the north, else he’d have taken care of the bilgesnipe. We expect him back any day.”

“Do you, now? Then there is no time to waste. I must leave immediately.”

“They will want a feast,” her words slurred together, but her voice strengthened. “To celebrate your victory. I believe they even had plans to serve parts of the beast’s carcass. You are to have the heart.”

“Sigyn, I cannot stay. If Hogun finds me here, all will be lost, and I’ve not the strength to change more of my countenance.”

“You do not wish to seem ungrateful, do you? If Hogun returns, I shall distract him, so worry not. There is one thing I would ask of you, for keeping your secrets—that’s in addition to staying for the feast.”

“Anything, Sigyn.”

“After you finish what business you have in Asgard, I ask that you return here and make me your bride.”

I fell silent. How anyone could want to marry me was beyond my understanding. Still, if Sigyn had seen my past and yet wanted to care for me, perhaps she would not mind so much if the desire to live up to my family’s expectations again led my plans astray. And she was only asking me to marry her—she did not ask me to stay.

“My dearest,” I solemnly replied, gently guiding her by the shoulders until our eyes met. “Help me get back to Asgard after the feast tonight, and when I have done what I mean to do, I shall return and we shall be wed. And do not ask what my business in Asgard entails. I think it better that you not know. Now, will you help me?”

“Yes, Loki. You have but to ask, and I will obey. But what shall I call you tonight?”

“Call me… Loptr,” I replied, and leaned in to kiss her lips gently.

xvi. Loki

The Vanir celebrated in a way wholly different from the raucous feasts and drinking contests of Asgard. For a largely more rural and barbaric people, their festivities were solemn affairs that delighted all of the senses. Soft, simple music orchestrated the evening, and the delicate foods were served specifically timed with the ambience to best present the intoxicating aromas and bright colors. Thespians wove between guests and servers before congregating on a central stage. Even the silks of ceremonial robes and pillows upon which we sat were chosen carefully to enhance the event.

Living in Vanaheim appealed to me more after that night.

Masked characters performed a re-enactment of the slaying of the bilgesnipe with much more bravado and flair than I remembered actually executing the event. At the close of the skit, after the actors had taken their bows and applause, the witches of the town gathered around the stage. Led by Sigyn, arms entwined, they chanted a crescendo culminating in a flickering portal, shining spires of the golden realm blazing through the undulating haze.

Rising and bowing to my hosts, I approached Sigyn and asked to be let out beyond the city gates. She swayed right, and the other witches followed her lead, drifting the portal to a clearing lit only by moonlight. I thanked her and kissed her cheek, then, taking the stage and bowing once more, I stepped through.

The portal closed immediately behind me, slight suction pulling at my clothing as particles settled back into place. A glance around the meadow gave me my bearings, and I walked slowly toward an old, gnarled oak. I brushed my fingers along a deep seam within the bark, and a silver glow shoved the groaning wood aside as it opened into an entrance. I slid feet-first down the muddy hole, and landed amid more of the faint, eerie silver light.

Heavy panting echoed from the network of roots around me, and I walked cautiously through the muck as the stench of a filthy kennel assaulted my nostrils. Rounding a corner, the shape of a massive furry beast blackened the silver glow. The creature spotted me, and growled as best he could with his mouth propped open. I proceeded with hands outstretched.

“Fenrir,” I cooed. “Have you forgotten me? I, who fed and cared for you as a pup; yes, I, who was powerless to stop the judgment of the Allfather. I am powerless no more, dear one. I will lead you back to light, Fenrir. Come.”

I stood well within the range of the coiled tether binding him to the rock, but he made no move to lunge, so I reached toward his glistening fangs and dislodged the blade that held his jaw agape. Immediately, the wolf threw himself at me. One hand aloft, I formed a barrier that clipped him on the chin, and he regrouped and pounced anew.

Fingers spread on my free hand, I reached tendrils of seidr within him and found the madness that had made a home in the base of his brain. I left a balm around it, unable to remove the mass completely. The great beast sat on fetid ground and gazed about, licking his nose and panting.

“Are you quite finished, then?”

I dropped the barrier and bent to cut the magical chain leashing him in his dreary prison. Turning, I picked my way back to the tree opening, Fenrir’s breath heating my neck in short bursts as he staggered behind me. When finally we emerged, he loped unsteadily around the clearing then dropped to the grass, rolling and flopping like a puppy.

“Fenrir,” I called, and wove my fingers through his matted mane when he reached me. “Enjoy your freedom, beast. You’ve earned it.”

He ducked out from my touch and ran into the forest. As I walked toward the golden city, I heard him miles away crashing through the undergrowth.

xvii. Loki

When finally I reached the gates of Asgard, morning had begun to peek from the eastern mountains in waves of coral and amber, the jewel-tone gradient reflecting from polished trim on the city’s walls. I had assumed the visage of a common einherji, and claimed to come bearing news of import for Odin’s ear.

Once inside the city, I passed unnoticed through the streets and palace hallways. The Allfather admitted me without ceremony, and the guards flanking the newly remodeled throne room dreamed on their feet.

“The prince,” I began, one nostril flinching up in a sneer before I caught it, “is nowhere to be found.”

Odin sighed and broke my gaze. I cleared my throat.

“However, I do have news, m’lord. We found a body…”

His eyes returned to mine, and he leaned forward ever so slightly. “Loki.”

The corner of my lip trembled. “Yes, sire. I…”

I never had opportunity to finish that conversation with Odin. Heimdall and Tyr burst into the throne room, yowling about a commotion in the northwest forests.

“The Fenrisulfr is loose!” Tyr exclaimed. “Allfather, you must come at once. We have to capture the beast and find out how it escaped.”

“You will excuse me,” Odin murmured in passing, ever more courteous to a nameless einherji than he had been to those he called family.

The statuesque guards sprang to life, marching behind the Allfather, the Watcher, and the Warlord as they hurried from the palace. I knelt alone until long after the echoes died away from the great chamber.

Slowly I rose to my feet, apprehensive that sudden movements may attract unwanted attention. I imagined hordes of einherjar pouring in through the high arches just in time to spoil the surprise I had planned for my brother. Padding to the throne, I slid easily onto its polished surface and into the guise of the Allfather.

Rather than replace the entire throne, Asgard had called upon her magic-weavers to repair the damaged surface. My fingertips revealed faint cracks between the old throne and new construction that my eye struggled to detect.

Presently, the massive elm door of the throne room creaked open, and heavy, measured steps clicked toward me down the corridor. Eyes downcast, golden hair and vermillion cape wafting forlornly behind him, Thor approached me looking every bit as weary as I felt when first I woke on Svartalfheim.

xviii. Thor

My feet thudded heavily on the polished stone surface, each step feeling like eons. I had come to tell my only living kin that I needed the company of “lesser creatures,” as he called them. Hours before, as I silently rehearsed the conversation, it had seemed—not easy, but doable. Now, my throat closed up and I could not bring myself to look him in the face. Instead, I knelt and studied each crack and gleam in the floor. While I searched my brain for a way to begin, Odin shifted and cleared his throat.

“Of the nine realms,” he commenced, “not one can now doubt that you serve the good of all. Each world watched as you risked your own life to thwart Malekith and contain the Aether. This selflessness marks you as a true king, my son. What would you wish of Asgard?”

My head raised enough to glance nervously at his unshielded eye, and I answered, “The freedom to live my life as I please. Asgard needs me as her protector, not her king. Loki, despite his misconceptions and misdeeds, understood the change that sacrifice forces upon those enthroned. Have of me a good man rather than a great king.”

My father pursed his lips and sank into the throne, one hand drawing down his face from forehead to chin before he exhaled with a sigh, “One son who wanted the throne too much, another who will not take it. Is this my legacy?”

“Loki died with honor,” I quickly retorted, anger deepening my baritone. “I shall try to live the same, and in so doing, honor his memory and the memory of our mother. Is that not legacy enough?”

Odin nodded absently and scratched his chin. My eyes strayed to the hammer that had served as an extension of my right arm for so many centuries. I recalled the last time I had upset Father, and how he had demanded Mjolnir as sacrifice until I proved myself worthy of using her to protect the realms. I stood slowly, my left hand closed-fisted across my breast as my gaze shifted to the floor and I held the weapon out to him.  


“I do not choose Mjolnir’s keeper. She has already deemed you worthy,” he replied, and sat up straighter as I finally exhaled and lowered Mjolnir to my belt. “Though I cannot condone your actions in betraying your king, my heart swells with pride for the insight that led you to defend the realms. Never has a man been more deserving of the reprieve that you seek.”

I smiled and bowed my head. “Thank you father.”

He responded with lips pulled tight and eyes shining with sorrow, and I knew the unspoken part of his answer betrayed grief in letting me go that he was not ready to admit to himself. I bowed, grateful for his sacrifice, and left the throne room.


	4. Part Four: Coming to Terms

xix. Thor

I remember shaking him, as if the movement could force life back into him. I called his name, from whispers to screams, over and over, thinking if I said it just the right way, he would hear.

At one point, I told Jane we could not leave him because I had to watch out for him. I wanted to get him to the healers.

It was not until she grasped his hand, a touch my brother would not have tolerated lightly, that the truth of the moment sunk in. I still felt I was abandoning him as she took my hand and pulled me away.

Later, when fighting Malekith, I imagined a flash of green silk from the corner of my eye or his shrill battle cry ringing in my ears. He should have been there.

I thought I had escaped to Midgard. I wanted not the company of my oldest friends. Jane’s apartment seemed the most ideal place in which to mourn, until I began hearing Loki’s whispers in the still, quiet hours of the early morning. They followed me to the rooftops, through the lush hills of the countryside, and down the dark alleyways of England’s cities.

The murmurs threatened to drive me mad until one day, as suddenly as they had started they stopped.

xx. Thor

On the heels of the maddening whispers came infuriating silence. Rage overtook me like the lust of battle without the hope of victory. I became unable to speak, and left from meals, flying with Mjolnir to an isolated dell where I could pour my anger into the faces of rocks or trunks of trees until exhaustion forced my collapse.

I would lay on the ground where I fell and curse Loki for leaving me. I had so many unanswered questions, and he had no right to ignore them. How dared the Norns take him from me right when I needed him?

I should have acted faster. I should not have allowed Kurse to keep Mjolnir from me. It was my fault, after all. Mother charged me with protecting him when we were boys, and I had failed them both.

xxi. Thor

When we were children, Loki would spin elaborate stories to entertain himself, and I would listen. He told of a story where a great warrior, overtaken with bloodlust, slaughtered his family. When this warrior came to his senses and saw what he had done, he set out immediately to find something to appease the Norns. He hoped that by offering the powerful goddesses a worthy sacrifice, they would reverse the fate of his wife and two small children.

The warrior gathered six of the finest buck goats he could find, a pair of fearless oxen, and a dozen horns of his king’s mead. The price for these rarities included elaborate feats of strength and cunning, but finally he won the offerings and slaughtered them at a beautiful elm altar he himself built especially for the occasion. The drinking horns were left atop the altar for the Norns to collect.

Weary from his exploits and unable to do more to change his past, the brave man lay down to sleep. In his dreams, the Norns explained that the offering, along with his personal sacrifice in attaining it, would suffice. They bade him travel to Niflheim with naught but a bushel of plums to offer Hela in exchange for his family.

Traveling for many days with no food or drink of his own, the warrior finally reached the gates of Hel and bade Garm let him pass. As he had nothing to distract the hound, Garm set off with a racket that brought Hela herself rushing down from her throne. The man explained he had arrived to trade his family for the plums, and Hela accepted with one condition. If the warrior or any of his family saw their reflections before they reached his house, the once-deceased would return to her and nothing would move her to release them a second time.

Hugging his family tightly, the man set off on the return trip and warned his wife and children not to go near any water source for fear they would be stolen from him. They passed five days walking back through Jotunheim, and had only one day of walking left when they came upon the Ifingr. Crossing this river would put them within their homeland, and the warrior warned his family to stray not from the center of the bridge. His young daughter, already weary with exhaustion and starvation, bent her head to scoop a drink from the icy branch and caught her own reflection in the water.

As she stared transfixed, her skin turned ashen, her hair fell out in patches, and finally her eyes shriveled within her skull. She fell over, dead on the Asgard bank of the Ifingr, as did the warrior’s wife and son.

I knew this to be a story made up by my brother, but still I prayed the Norns to give me the chance the warrior had. I promised to bring three times the offerings, perform twice the feats to get them, and carry Loki back from Hel bound to my back so that he could not lose himself in that icy swill.

I pleaded with them daily to name an arrangement acceptable to them, and I would see it done. I asked to trade places with my brother; I promised to rule Asgard and the nine realms as the king my father wanted me to be. Nothing swayed the silent arborists. They never even visited my dreams. Indeed, I stopped dreaming at all until Jane decided to move us to a more familiar clime.

xxii. Thor

Jane had the idea that relocating me to the sleepy town of Puente Antiguo, New Mexico would help me to heal. I thanked her for her concern and assured her we did not need to move. She, convinced that revisiting the place we first met would do me good, insisted upon the change of residence and claimed she intended to continue the work she had started in the arid land.

At first I welcomed the change in scenery. Darcy and Jane also seemed to brighten in the abundant sunlight. Erik had stayed behind, saying he needed more readings from the curious rock formations. Ian tagged along with Darcy, and though he was a welcome addition to our group, I do not think he ever quite adjusted to the dry heat.

Jane spent much time on her work, which left me with many hours of free time every day. We had expanded my Midgardian wardrobe so as to not frighten the locals. I took great pleasure in wearing only jeans and a thin shirt, unencumbered by the weight of armor. I spent many days walking along the streets of Puente Antiguo with nothing upon my feet.

Darcy taught me to drive, and boredom often compelled me to borrow her car and wander far out into the surrounding desert. I would sit for hours watching the peculiar Midgardian creatures in their daily battle for life.

One day, distracted by thought as I drove, I found myself at the edge of a great crater. I stopped the car and walked toward it, my heart beating harder with each step. When I reached the top, I knew it to be the depression Mjolnir had made upon landing. I had thought my heart to be healed, but that assumption was false.

The meeting I had had with Loki when father had cast me out—the same one in which he told me our father had died—replayed before my eyes as if it were just happening. I knew, of course, that Loki had come with a false message. I also knew he felt he had to, else he would never have the chance to prove his worth to father.

The weight of my brother’s death fell upon me like the trunk of Yggdrasil. I collapsed at the center of the crater, leaning heavily upon the lightning-fused sand where Mjolnir had landed. Black clouds quickly gathered above me, but they held their rain. My chest pained as if a frost giant had cleft it with his icy pike, yet tears would not come to my eyes.

I opened my mouth and screamed silently as the wind picked up. I must have stayed in the crater for hours until Darcy and Jane hoisted me by the arms and half-dragged me back to the lab.

They asked not into the details of that day, and I feigned injury, spending the evening in bed. The next day, and each day after, I wore the mask of the jovial god of thunder they had come to expect. I walked around town, making small talk with the townsfolk and even trading my Midgardian coin for trinkets with which to gift my friends.

The town had rebuilt remarkably well in the time since last I was there, and the diner was just as busy as ever, though I could not bring myself to enter it. Whenever I went near the doors, I felt uneasy, and immediately turned around.

One evening as I leaned against a brick wall chatting up a peddler of secrets, I brushed my hand across the gritty surface and discovered a part of it with a very smooth, glass-like texture. The peddler put down his stack of papers and came over to see what so interested me.

“About two years back,” he began, “we were invaded by robots. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true! The robot leader breathed fire, like a dragon, and this building caught a blast of flame as the machine battled Xena, Robin Hood, and Jackie Chan. Can you imagine, Jackie Chan in our town? Anyway, some of the brick melted. The owners decided to leave it there as a reminder—though I don’t know why they’d want to be reminded that their livelihood almost burnt to the ground!”

I thanked the man and walked away, digging my toes into the sand after I had passed out of town. My steps slowed, and I thought how fitting it was that the only memento I had of my brother was a piece of something solid that had been melted smooth and disfigured on the day he tried to kill me.

It felt like a summation of our lives, how something I once took for granted as constant and indestructible had twisted and dissolved under pressure. I thought how the melted brick felt under my hand—different, but pleasing, and just as good. I sank to my knees in the sand, and tears slid from my eyes as the skies opened their floodgates and soaked me through to the bone.

xxiii. Thor

My Midgardian friends came not looking for me after my grief flooded the town. It happened a few times more, but each storm seemed less severe than previously. The last one was little more than a misting of rain over the course of an hour, and I found that when it ended, the ache in my chest had dulled.

I missed my brother terribly, but there came a time when my memories of him wetted not my eyes. It is said that even the Norns cannot undo what is already woven.

I began to enjoy the company of my companions again. I laughed with them, and truly felt delight in the depths of my heart. At length, I even found myself enjoying breakfast at the diner. As we walked back to Jane’s lab, we passed the smoothed brick and I stopped momentarily.

Jane turned and saw my eyes fixed upon the marred surface. She walked closer to it and her fingers brushed over the wall. Her brow furrowed.

“What is…” she began, then her eyes opened wide in understanding. “The Destroyer.”

She glanced to me, and I nodded.

“I should like to have this piece of wall. It would mean a great deal to me if I could remember my brother in this way.”

“Thor, you can’t just take a piece of someone’s wall. It belongs to the owners of the building. They won’t be happy if they have to repair it again,” she said gently.

“Where are the ones who own this building? I would speak with them,” I replied.

Darcy sighed and walked toward the door with Ian following behind. “I’ll go get them,” she huffed, stomping up the stairs.

Shortly, the pair returned with a powerfully built man in a blue suit. He reminded me of Heimdall in his quiet manner.

“Sir, I would have this piece of your wall,” I began, pointing at the glassy area.

He stared at me, head cocked and mouth pursed, for minutes before answering, “And what will you give me for the wall?”

“I will remove the piece myself and rebuild the wall to your satisfaction. If I cannot satisfy you, I will find someone who can.”

“How do I know you will do what you say?” the man asked, head still cocked.

“You have my word.”

He stared, one eyebrow slightly raised and his arms folded in front of him.

Jane cut in, grabbing my wrist with one hand. “He’s not from around here. In his home—ah, land, a person’s word is as good as a contract. And if that is not enough,” she tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing the large diamond earrings I had gifted her recently, “I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

The man’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “You have one week.”

He turned and walked back into the building, while the four of us proceeded to the lab.

“Thor,” Jane said once we had settled on her couch. “How will you become an expert mason in a week?”

I grinned at her and kissed her head. “What makes you think I am not already?”

xxiv. Thor

All that week I went about my usual routine. I awoke when Jane did, made breakfast for us both, then wandered the streets and spoke with the townspeople while Jane worked. I especially enjoyed the store that sold animals.

Midgard’s animals are interesting things—they are all tiny and soft, nothing huge, repulsive, or dangerous like in Asgard. We do have some of the same species. We have cats and dogs, but our cats are large enough to pull a chariot, and our dogs are monstrous, powerful creatures, capable of guarding entire realms alone.

Each evening over supper, Jane would ask what progress I had made on the wall. I always told her I had not yet started. As Thursday came to a close and I gave the same response, she pushed a bite of pork around her plate and finally shrugged.

“Trust me,” I said, and finished eating.

The next morning, I took Mjolnir and walked down to the wall. I tapped a rough oval around the fused brick with the hammer’s handle, brushed the glass-smooth surface, and walked back to the lab. The rest of the day passed uneventfully. After dinner, I excused myself and told Jane I would come back shortly.

Returning to the wall, I found the hardware store had delivered the pallet of bricks and mortar I had ordered. I opened the bag of mortar and set it on the sidewalk, then picked up Mjolnir and called a light storm. A stray bolt of lightning forked out from the clouds, and I channeled it into the wall, where it followed the shape I had tapped out in the morning. I pushed on the bottom of the marked area, and the entire piece fell into my waiting hands.

After setting the piece against the wall nearby, I slowly stirred the mortar into a small cyclone and mixed it with rain. I grabbed a handful and smeared it into the gaping hole, then laid bricks on top. Once the entire cavity had been filled this way, I again harnessed a bolt and sealed the hole up. None would have reason to doubt the building power of my hammer, and I daresay the wall was stronger than before.

Jane ran out to greet me as I walked back to her lab, Mjolnir swinging from one hand and the piece of wall slung over my shoulder. I smiled warmly at her, and she pointed to the cloudless sky.

“The storm… I thought you were…”

“Fear not, Lady Jane, I am well. I have completed my task,” I beamed.

“And here I thought you had just given up on it.”

“No, not given up. For I no longer need this reminder of my brother, but I want it just the same.”

She wrapped her arms around my waist and we went back inside.

At length, Jane proposed that I find employment. A grown man who seemingly lived off of his companion’s wealth was looked down upon in Midgard. Word spread quickly of the fine job I had done repairing the wall, and I found many opportunities for work as a brick mason.

I yet missed my brother, but I had come to terms with losing him. One question haunted me through all those years on Midgard. Was it the bond we shared in our youth as brothers that I missed, or was it the stronger bond that had started to grow between us after our mother’s death that still kept me up some nights?


End file.
